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OK, I know it’s something of a cliche to be a woman who loves the work of Georgia O’Keeffe. But I don’t care. I have unabashedly loved her work for what seems like forever. And I’m proud to say that my ten year-old niece, Samantha is a fan, as well and with no initial prodding from her aunt. ( Though I do admit to unabashedly encouraging her whenever I can! )

I was drawn to her work on first sight, but it wasn’t until I began taking studio courses in drawing and painting that my love truly blossomed. Maybe it was that her palette seemed to be similar to the colors I was repeating in my own work.

Or maybe it was how shocking some of her abstract work, thought to recall certain parts of a woman’s body, were in her day. Perhaps that sense of rebellion against the “boys club” appealed to the feminist in me.

It could have been how she was celebrating quiet and peace of the natural world, while technology was being ushered in at a rapid pace.

Maybe it is the softness of her brushwork– seriously, can you even see any brushstrokes? Or how delicate her lines were drawn.

Perhaps it is a combination of all these things. Whatever it is, I find her work magical.